Tribble has developed this cunning method of floopy quasi-passive resistance to taking the liquid meds. He turns into a floppy furry ragdoll with coils of refusal lurking underneath.

Only 4 more days to go, though one of the meds doesn't look like it will last that long, and he's supposed to have both of them together. I'll have to check with the vet on whether to continue the bubblegum pink liquid if the bitter white liquid runs out first.

I think Diva might be benefitting from the L-Lysine. It's all rather subjective, of course, but her eyes don't seem quite as bad (though still a little runny sometimes) and her fur seems to have improved (more gloss, less dandruff).

Poor Tribble. He keeps searching out new hiding places and I keep finding him.

Only 6 more days to go, thank Bast.

I couldn't resist taking more cute cat pictures: Diva, Puck and Blue this time.

Converting the big Lysine capsules into the two small capsules has proven to be relatively easy and painless. Neither Querida nor Diva seem bothered by swallowing them. I'm a happy cat-mother.

I'm sprinkling a bit of fresh catnip on the spa in the morning and last thing in the evening, making for a batch of happy moggies.

Yesterday, while running errands in Bakersfield, we went to a Petsmart (big chain of pet stores). I mainly went looking for a powerful shaver to use on the Evil Butt of Theseus. I found the one the vet recommended but it was $80.00 and I just couldn't justify spending that much. I settled for a special pair of clipping scissors at $8.00 instead.

Meanwhile, Randy got into serious trouble. He had found a room set aside for an organization that tries to get cats adopted. There were about 8 large cages with batches of kittens and about 6 adult cats. Randy fell hard for a white cat with orange tabby patches that was a total sweetheart. The only thing that saved us is that person who handles the adoptions is only there on Sat. Otherwise, I greatly fear that cat would be home with us right now. We had a narrow escape.

I vascillated about it, but ended up buying a $20 catnip "spa" for the cats, a tub of catnip, more oat/wheat grass seeds, and Randy bought a new catnip toy for the moggies, since the catnip mouse is long gone.

The catnip spa was a big hit and I have photos to prove it. A whole batch of photos, actually, of that and other tidbits. The main nipheads were Puck, Owl, Tribble and Theseus. Puck and Owl teamed up to make it very difficult to put the spa together while they went bonkers on it.

I put the unopened tub of catnip on top of a bookshelf about 4 feet tall. Owl astonished me. Not only did he detect the sealed tub up up there, he JUMPED to the top of the bookcase. I honestly didn't think he was capable of a jump like that with his metal knee. But driven by catnip lust, he can do it.

There was much rubbing, sniffing and lolling about. Tribble and Puck exchanged a flurry of blows after trying to snarf up the same piece of catnip.

Randy came in and had great fun getting the mogs to play with the new catnip toy, a furry thing on a string. I was surprised at how incredibly playful Owl got with it. Owl is learning rather late in life how to play, and it's nice to see.

The toy was carefully wound up and put away on a much higher bookshelf, but this morning I found it unwound and knocked down into the trash bin.

Of course, today the catnip spa is being ignored. They only like the stuff when it's really fresh, the spoiled brats.

Yesterday, I also picked up some L-Lysine in capsules, trying to find an easier way to give it to Diva and Querida. Unfortunately, they only make a dosage in a large capsule suitable for human throats, and is twice the amount I'm supposed to give at one time. My cats would choke on those capsules. I tried sprinkling it into food, but both girls decided they didn't care for the taste of it, so that's not going to work. I went to the pharmacy today and bought some much smaller sized gelatin capsules. I'm going to empty the Lysine powder from one large capsule into two small capsules and give those. Bast owes me big karma points for this.

Getting Tribble's medicines out is a slightly complicated affair. I have to put a piece of paper on my desk. Set out the thyroid pill. Get the two bottles of liquid medicine from the mini-fridge (one white, one hot pink). Shake them up. Draw up the two syringes of liquid med. Lay them on the paper. Put meds back in fridge. Find cat (a 2 to 10 minute process). Grip cat firmly. Impart meds. Let cat run off and hide. Toss out paper. Wash out syringes. Wash spit-up and foam off plastic floor mat. Repeat at night.

Yesterday, I had everything laid out, but when I returned with Tribble, I found that Theseus, CWAC (Cat Without A Clue) had laid his enormous, furry body all over the meds. ACCKKK! I went. He jumped up and ran off, scattering the syringes. I somehow managed to gather them up and shake off the bits of hair without losing hold of Tribble. So now I have to add an extra step and put my large rolodex over the syringes for protection until I get back.

I will be soooo glad when we're done with this.

I had to tear apart a corner of my office to find and nab Tribble this morning. The man who put the drywall up to convert this space into my office left behind a large pile of rubbish and stray bits of drywall in one corner that I haven't had time to deal with. Naturally, Tribble found a way to ooze back in there totally out of reach.

He comes by his hiding ability genetically. Querida found a hiding spot the other day that gave me fits. Took me ten minutes of serious searching to find her.

Kate is stretched out to the right of my keyboard trying to have a relaxing nap, and Tosca, who simply cannot resist the sight of a twitching tail, keeps batting at Kate's tail and pinning it down. I'm waiting for the inevitable backlash, as it were. Kate is staunchly ignoring the pestering and this seems to be working. Yes, Tosca is losing interest. What's the fun of batting your sister moggy's tail if you can't get a rise out of her?

Tribble has taken to going into hiding as soon as I come into the office and he's found some truly cunning new hiding places that have wasted a lot of my time as I wander around the office muttering and peering behind, under, over and around various objects.

I should mention that there are some new contenders in the Silly Sleeping Pose Olympics, so check it out.

I just had to break up a full-on bloody fight between Puck and Knobby. Puck really has it in for Knobby. Knobby often ends up as the "pariah cat" in the Horde. Fortunately, there was no actual blood but I had to visit some severe discipline upon the blasted Prince of Mischief.

Theseus is such a bull-in-a-china-shop. He can't help it. He's built like an aircraft carrier. A very furry aircraft carrier. He gets on my desk and simply turns around and knocks over half the objects I have there, sending me searching for scattered pens.

Tribble has taken to hiding from me when I come into the office. Sadly for him, I know all his hiding places.

My vet recommended L-Lysine for Diva to treat her eye virus (250 mg twice a day). I've been giving it to her in chunks inside treats. She was taking these without demur until last night when she finally said, "Yuck on these." I had to give them the old-fashioned way. Happily, she took them in the treats this morning. I think it's already helping, as her eyes are looking better (less weepy and gooey) and her fur looks like it's improving as well.

I'm also giving it to Querida. I don't see a big change in her, but she does seem to be feeling pretty well these days, which is good.

Poor dear Tribble. I feel so bad having to give him these two liquid meds, one of which (the vet warned me) has a terrible, bitter taste. Plus he already has bad diarrhea from them after only one day. I put in a call to the vet wondering if I can give him acidophilus to help deal with it. I'm lucky that he's such a loving, forgiving cat, but that just makes it harder to do the evil deed.

I keep stepping on the pathetic remnant of the catnip mouse, which is unnerving because after years of living with cats, my feet have developed unique sensors entirely of their own which instantly send messages along the lines of "You may have stepped on some part of a cat!" or "You may have stepped on a gopher snout!" or "You may have stepped on a large, firm hairball!" or "You have just stepped in something really disgusting you don't want to know about!"

One of these is usually correct. Except no more gopher snouts here, of course.

Tribble has a worrisome elevation in a key liver enzyme, so I'm starting him on two medications. One I have to pick up at the vet's office and the other is, as she put it, "at the human pharmacy."

Puck had one of his ga-ga moments over my hair this morning. I had just washed and dried it. Came into the office. Began the morning round of handing out pills and treats. I knelt down to take care of Owl under my desk. Next thing I know, Puck has walked off the desk, onto my shoulders, settles on my back, wraps his front legs around my neck and rubs himself all over my hair. Then, totally high, he chases Kate around the office. I swear the secret ingredient in Pantene must be catnip.

Thanks to Alex Burr for pointing me to this one. It was found at: http://www.tlcpoodles.com/catbath.html

CAT BATHING AS A MARTIAL ART
by Howard "Bud" Herron

Some people say cats never have to be bathed. They say cats lick themselves clean. They say cats have a special enzyme of some sort in their system that works like new, improved Wisk--dislodging the dirt where it hides and whisking it away.

I've spent most of my life believing this folklore. Like most blind believers, I've been able to discount all the facts to the contrary, the kitty odors that lurk in the corners of the garage and dirt smudges that cling to the throw rug by the fireplace.

The time comes, however, when a man must face reality: when he must look squarely in the face of massive public sentiment to the contrary and announce: "This cat smells like a port-a-potty in July."

When that day arrives at your house, as it has in mine, I have some advice you might consider as you place your feline friend under your arm and head for the bathtub:

--Know that although the cat has the advantage of quickness and lack of concern for human life, you have the advantage of strength. Capitalize on that advantage by selecting the battlefield. Don't try to bathe him in an open area where he can force you to chase him. Pick a very small bathroom. If your bathroom is more than four feet square, I recommend that you get in the tub with the cat and close the sliding-glass doors as if you were about to take a shower. (A simple shower curtain will not do. A berserk cat can shred a three-ply rubber shower curtain quicker than a politician can shift positions!)

--Know that a cat has claws and will not hesitate to remove all skin from your body. Your advantage here is that you are smart and know how to dress to protect yourself. I recommend canvas overalls tucked into high-top construction boots, a pair of steel-mesh gloves, an army helmet, a hockey face mask, and a long-sleeved flak jacket.

--Prepare everything in advance. There is no time to go out for a towel when you have a cat digging a hole in your flak jacket. Draw the water. Make sure the bottle of kitty shampoo is inside the glass enclosure. Make sure the towel can be reached, even if you are lying on your back in the water.

--Use the element of surprise. Pick up your cat nonchalantly, as if to simply carry him to his supper dish. (Cats will not usually notice your strange attire. They have little or no interest in fashion as a rule. If he does notice your garb, calmly explain that you are taking part in a product testing experiment for J.C. Penny.)

--Once you are inside the bathroom, speed is essential to survival. In a single liquid motion, shut the bathroom door, step into the tub enclosure, slide the glass door shut, dip the cat in the water and squirt him with shampoo. You have begun on the wildest 45 seconds of your life.

--Cats have no handles. Add the fact that he now has soapy fur, and the problem is radically compounded. Do not expect to hold on to him for more than two or three seconds at a time. When you have him, however, you must remember to give him another squirt of shampoo and rub like crazy. He'll then spring free and fall back into the water, thereby rinsing himself off. (The national record for cats is three latherings, so don't expect too much.)

--Next, the cat must be dried. Novice cat bathers assume this part will be the most difficult, for humans generally are worn out by this time. Drying is simple compared to what you have just been through. That's because by now the cat is semi-permanently affixed to your right leg. You simply pop the drain plug with your foot, reach for your towel and wait. (Occasionally, however, the cat will end up clinging to the top of your army helmet. If this happens, the best thing you can do is to shake him loose and to encourage him toward your leg.) After all the water is drained from the tub, it is a simple matter to just reach down and dry the cat.

--In a few days the cat will relax enough to be removed from your leg. He will usually have nothing to say for about three weeks and will spend a lot of time sitting with his back to you. He might even become psychoceramic and develop the fixed stare of a plaster figurine.

--You will be tempted to assume he is angry. This isn't usually the case. As a rule he is simply plotting ways to get through your defenses and injure you for life the next time you decide to give him a bath.

--But at least now he smells a lot better.